Off Leash
Two eyes met hers in the darkness and stole her gaze away. Having long forgotten the cheap horror film flickering on the screen, Hae-soo quietly studied Yeol's face in the light spilling out from it.
The prominent brow ridge, the deep-set hollows beneath it. The straight, high bridge of his nose. Everything about him conjured a masculine image—except, she thought, for his lips. They were delicate and clean-lined, as if drawn in with a fine brush, and their color was a pure, unblemished red.
The longer she looked, the hotter her face grew. From the audio came an unending torrent of shrill screams, yet strangely, inside her, everything had gone as still as water.
Hae-soo swallowed dryly and forced her eyes away from his face. It was then that her captured hand was pulled, and his upper body leaned over toward the passenger seat.
"......Ah."
Under the steady pressure of his push, the back of her head sank deep into the headrest. Skipping any long, careful exploration, his tongue pushed inside her blatantly, openly. It traced the inside of her lips, pried apart her clenched teeth with unyielding insistence, and invaded.
The empty space within her filled with him, and the air in the car turned thick and dense in an instant. Yeol swallowed every escaping moan whole, and when Hae-soo tried to form the words just a second, he hooked his tongue around hers and snatched it away. He sucked hard, pulled, nibbled slowly and persistently. The wet sounds rang out shamelessly against her ears.
"Nn...... ngh."
It was the tip of her tongue being bitten, yet her whole body throbbed as if he were chewing on her. A sensation like sharp jolts of pain prickled along her skin and raced down into her belly.
Ah, too deep. This is too much......
She couldn't bear it. Her hips kept arching up, and the inside of her thighs itched with need. Hae-soo raised her one free hand and pushed at his chest. He caught it in a flash and guided it behind his own shoulder.
"Hold on to me."
His voice came out husky. Hae-soo's body jolted as if she'd been electrocuted. Without giving her a chance to protest, he pressed his lips to hers again. A thick arm slipped behind her bucking, twisting waist and wound around it, the embrace tight—almost desperate, as if he couldn't bear a sliver of space between their bodies.
Chup, tsseup, chok.
Between the strange sound effects, slick, messy noises wove themselves in. Yeol stirred recklessly beyond her lips as his hand, slung behind her back, went wandering. Bit by bit, he drew out the hem of the blouse she had so primly tidied and tucked into her skirt. Like the cheap heels that had bloodied her heels earlier, the garment—destined to last barely a month—rumpled with a rustling, cumbersome clamor.
Such a waste, putting a body like this in something like this.
One day, I'll dress her exactly to my taste. Thinking of clothes that would suit the woman's supple frame, he slid his hand into the blouse. Her spine, curving in a deep hollow, traced a vivid line. Her skin was smooth as silk. Unable to resist, he pressed down hard with his fingertips, nearly crushing it, and Hae-soo's tongue flinched and retreated in fright.
"Haah......"
When the morsel he'd been so savorily sucking vanished from his mouth, a dissatisfied sigh escaped him. Like a child whose candy had been taken, Yeol bit her lips with playful spite. In the moment Hae-soo gasped, he stole her tongue back, and at the same time his hand moved along the groove of her spine.
Partway down, something blocked his path. Watching Hae-soo's lowered lashes tremble, Yeol groped for her bra strap as if testing the waters.
Undo it or not. If I do, how will she react?
Will she panic and thrash? Or be too dazed by the kiss to even notice? Surely she wouldn't slap me.
Swallowing a low chuckle at the back of his throat, Yeol tugged the clasp. If it came to it, he'd take the hit. He wanted to touch her, to undress her, to the point of madness.
The taut strap came apart, slack and yielding. In that instant, Yeol drove his tongue into her mouth, wild and ferocious. When he crashed in so recklessly their teeth knocked together, the woman furrowed her brows and let out a pained whimper.
"Hck."
His hand glided slowly down the bare, smooth expanse of her back, now bared without obstacle. It was a texture he could touch forever and never tire of. Absentmindedly stroking her body, Yeol slid his lips lower. When he tried to nudge beneath her chin, she abruptly tilted her head down and hunched her neck.
"Wait......, ah—!"
Yeol, using the excuse of fright, finally released Hae-soo's hand—the one he'd been pinning down. He slipped his free hand behind her ear, fingers grazing her scalp as they buried in her hair and gathered it into a fist. He tugged, gently. Her slender nape arched backward in a graceful curve.
Even in the darkness, the blue veins and the steeply throbbing pulse were plainly visible. He told himself he had to stop here—and couldn't. The moment his lips finally touched her throat, the scent of an ordinary, commonplace body lotion struck his keen sense of smell.
A powdery scent laced with artificial florals.
It left a cloying heaviness in his nose. It didn't suit the season, and it didn't suit Cha Hae-soo's image either. And yet why——
"Yeol, Yeol-ah, ah, nngh......"
Why does it ache down there so much?
His center, swollen to the point of pain, pressed ominously up against the front of his trousers. He wanted to take it out, press it against anything and rub. He could feel curses rising unbidden. Yeol unraveled the impulse—the urge to spit fuck—into the nape of her neck, messy and unrestrained.
"Ah, that stings...... hck, it hurts!"
Hae-soo squirmed and twisted away, petulant as a child—and the tighter he held her hair in response. Her hair, which she'd tied neatly in a single low knot, was already a wreck.
"Stop it, come on......"
"Sorry."
"Ahh, honestly......"
"I am sorry, but just give me a minute, okay?"
His soothing voice carried not a single grain of sincerity as he breathed hard against the damp skin, drinking it in. The mottled blossoms of heat flowering on her white throat goaded his desire brutally. The word stop only made him more feverish. The hand that had been roaming her back wandered, almost absentmindedly, around to the front. The instant his palm closed over the soft fullness of her breast, Hae-soo shuddered violently.
"Ah......!"
Hae-soo's hazy eyes went wide. She clutched his wrist with both hands, urgent and desperate. Her lashes—which always, always moved a beat slower than anyone else's—fluttered busily now.
"S-stop it. Stop."
God, he wanted to seal that mouth with his own and drive into her, rough and relentless. The full, heavy breast filling his palm was so satisfying. He wanted to squeeze it until it burst. Wanted to tug the stiffened peak, twist it, suck it.
"Stop. Not anymore."
But he couldn't pin down a woman who had fully reclaimed her senses like a beast taking its prey. Setting aside what was right or wrong, his pride wouldn't allow it. Forcing her, coercing a resisting woman—that was something he refused to do.
What he wanted to see was Hae-soo melting with pleasure, weeping for him. Not Cha Hae-soo crying out of fear or revulsion.
Yeol withdrew his hand from the blouse obediently. Wearing a look of sheepish helplessness, he tucked her disheveled hair behind her ear.
"Sorry. I got carried away. I was too excited."
She shot him a look that said, you think? Even that glare was stimulating now. Ignoring the heavy ache pooling in his gut, Yeol patted her soothingly.
"Turn around. I'll fix your underwear for you."
"No, that's...... I can do that myself. Just turn your head around for a second."
"Should I step out for a bit?"
"Yes. That would be better."
Sitting there in silence, listening to the rustle and rustle of her moving, would be nothing short of torture. The moment Hae-soo nodded quickly, Yeol stepped out of the car without so much as a backward glance. Erect and aching furiously below.
The film was climbing toward its climax, the screen strobing without pause. The instant the surroundings flared bright, the face of a man sitting in the driver's seat of the car behind them came into Yeol's view. The man's gaze was fixed squarely on his crotch. The curse he'd swallowed earlier clawed its way back up his throat.
What are you looking at, you fuck.
When he stared back, raking his hair back irritably, the startled man hastily turned his eyes to the screen. Fucking idiot. Yeol muttered whatever came to mind and fished a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Plucking one out, he walked toward the edge of the drive-in theater.
By the time this one's smoked, he'll be dead. No—he'd better be dead.
Glancing briefly down at his straining cock, Yeol lit the cigarette. He inhaled deep and exhaled. The acrid smoke kept filling his lungs, but at the tip of his nose that cloying, powdery scent of body lotion still seemed to linger. His lips found the filter without any of his usual ease. The cigarette burned down fast.
How many times did she even suck on it.
He tossed the stub, now shortened to nothing, without mercy and lit another. What should have settled long ago was still clamoring, insistent.
Done right, I could go hours like this without so much as a wince. He twisted his lips into a smirk, but honestly, nothing about it was funny. The desire with no outlet felt like it was wringing his guts into knots.
Hoo.
Cigarette clamped between his lips, Yeol rolled his stiff neck from side to side. He hardly recognized himself, chain-smoking like this. It had been a long time since he'd started smoking, but even at his heaviest, he'd never gone through more than three or four a day.
People liked to say it was the perfect after-meal smoke—the kind you reached for when your mouth felt dry after eating. Which meant lighting one after another in a single spot was, for him, practically unheard of. No. It had never happened. Not once.